


Doppelganger

by anonymousmadame2911



Series: The Blue Hippo and the Pink Pussycat [1]
Category: Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:06:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18636889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousmadame2911/pseuds/anonymousmadame2911
Summary: Just one night working at the Blue Hippo, a burlesque club.





	Doppelganger

“He’s here. He. Is. Here.”  
“Lucy? Who’s here? The manager?!”  
“Psh! The manager?! Nobody cares about him. Evans.”  
“Evans…? Lucy, are you actually having a stroke?”  
“Chris. Evans. He only made a billion dollars on Infinity War!”  
“Oh…really? Why would he be here?”  
“Uh hello! Look at us! We’re gorgeous!”  
“No. Be serious for one minute. Is Sebastian Stan with him?”  
“I wasn’t looking for him. But I don’t think so. Let me go check.”  
“No—!” 

How was this girl even your best friend? 

“Nope. He’s just sitting with a bunch of random white guys.”  
“So…what you’re trying to tell me…if I understand correctly…is that he came to New York City…is NOT hanging out with one of his friends at the Blue Hippo? Is that what you’re telling me?”  
“But we don’t really know the extent of their friendship. They could just be coworkers.”

You were sure your eyebrows couldn’t reach any higher.

“Right. So, let me put this in perspective for you. You know how you always talk about moving back to that cesspool Tucson?”  
“Yeah.”  
“If I went to Tucson with some friends, I would call you up and visit you, right?”  
“Right.”  
“So where’s his homie? His boy? His bro? His dude? His dude-bro?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Listen, you always got some get-rich-quick scheme and that’s how I got stuck selling Avon. But this ain’t it. Some mega-celebrity, recognizable on all seven continents, isn’t going to just come in here, sweep you off your feet and take you away from here. We’re stuck here until we get something better, so focus on yourself. Focus on getting a new job.”  
“You never know! Meghan Marckle was set up on a blind date with Prince Harry—“  
“Are you actually Googling ‘celebrities that met on a blind date’ right now?”  
“It says that Jon Stewart met his wife on a blind date. Who’s Jon Stewart?”  
“OhmyGod. You are such a baby. He was the host of The Daily Show before Trevor Noah. What am I going to do with you? I need to finish getting ready.”  
“Hey, you have to do your Captain America-meets-Winter Soldier set.”  
“Come on! No.”  
“Please? Do it for Evans. He’s sitting out there right now. Waiting for you to take off all your clothes for him.”

That definitely struck a chord deep in you. 

“No he’s not! No! He ain’t!”

She threw her best pout and puppy-dog eyes at you. 

“Please? For me?”  
“You are out of control, you know that? Out! Ofcontrol!”

You took a deep breath in and knew you were in trouble.

“Fine. I’ll do it. I can’t believe you, honestly!”  
“Whyyyyyyyyyyy?! That’s your best set!”  
“I have to completely change and re-do my makeup. Do I even have time?!”  
“An hour.”  
“Crap.”

From the dressing room, you heard the DJ announcing the first dancer, Sasha. You scrambled to your bags and dumped them across the dressing room table. Some tassels, a feather boa, and an ostrich feather fan fell out of it along with some bikini tops, thongs and some latex boy shorts. You and Lucy started digging through the pile.

“Did you find the silver and black thong?”  
“Here it is,” squealed Lucy.  
“Where’s—”  
“Here!”  
“Are you taking the shield?! You’re definitely taking the shield!”  
“I don’t have a choice. It’s part of the act.”

Your eyebrows were definitely reaching new heights tonight. 

“It’s almost my set. Change your makeup.”  
“Excuse me? Since when did you grow some balls?”  
“You can’t go out there looking like goth queen on top and hot dog-hamburger-beer on bottom. Oh that’s me. Change! See you in a bit.”

You took off your heels and your makeup. You highly doubted that Captain America would run around in 6 inch Lucite stilettos and a black smoky eye. Sure. Evans could probably pull it off, like he did every other outfit. Damn him and those rippling muscles. Eyelashes longer than yours. Damn him. You ran to the DJ booth in your red, white and blue heels to inform him of the set list change. Your list would include “The One” by Tracy Chapman and finish with “Pony” by Ginuwine. Always good to end on something sexy when you’re nearly naked. After 17 years of dance classes and a massive knee injury, you still had enough dance training to choreograph your routines and the manager let you. 

“Energy’s good tonight,” Lucy exhaled, breaking you out of your reverie.  
“Awesome.”  
“It’s him. It’s definitely the Chris Evans.”  
“Ok. Can you stop? It’s not him. He has no interest in coming to the Blue Hippo when there are real strip clubs here. He could get a hand job for $50 at the Pink Pussycat. He could even go to a bar and probably get it for free.”  
“Sure. We’ll see,” she giggled.  
“Really Lucy?”  
“No. For sure. It’s him. I’ll give him a hand job for free,” Sasha stated.  
“Sasha? Et tu, Brutus?! No it isn’t. It’s just someone who looks like him.”  
“Well it’s his damn twin then.”  
“Y’all are crazy.”  
“We work here. Of course we’re crazy. Did I tell you I got a job interview next week?”  
“Yey! Good for you!”  
“You’re up!”  
“OK, we’ll talk after.”  
“Break a leg!”

The first chords of “American Woman” by Lenny Kravitz played through the speakers and that was your cue. You peeked through the curtains and made sure the chair and shield were already set up on stage. You nailed your choreography. Sasha and Lucy were right. The energy was high in the room tonight. You went backstage to take off your costume and makeup. 

“He’s coming.”  
“Guys. No.”  
“Guys. Yes,” Sasha squealed.  
“First. Please stop yelling in my ear. Second, please don’t invite total strangers to our dressing room. We have all of our stuff back here. What if he steals my wallet?”  
“Why would an uber-rich celebrity steal your wallet?”  
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Winona Ryder why she likes to steal?”  
“Shhhhhhhhhh! He’s coming,” whispered Lucy.

At 6 feet tall and a wall of solid muscle, the guy looked like a good replica—a damn great one actually—of Chris Evans, right down to that mole on his cheek. You turned back to your mirror to continue taking off your makeup. 

“Could you take the pictures?” Lucy asked, shoving her phone into your hands.  
“Oh here’s mine too,” said Sasha.

You got up and made your way over to the group. Those blue eyes peeking out from under the baseball cap murdered you. But, you still had a few tricks up your sleeve to help your girls out.

“Could y’all stand closer together? I’m gonna get a couple of shots to make sure they look nice. Sasha, could you put your arm around him? Squish together nice and tight. There we go!”

You took about 10 shots on each phone.

“Here. Check and make sure you like them.”

You handed the phones back to Sasha and Lucy. 

“These look awesome.”  
“Thanks! You’re the best. Chris, thank you so much for taking pictures with us.”  
“Not a problem ladies. Anything for my fans. You were so talented on stage. I’m exceptionally uncoordinated when it comes to dancing.”  
“I’m sure you’re not,” Sasha cooed at him.  
“We should all go dancing together!” Lucy said it like this was her Einstein moment.  
“I’m sure you ladies don’t want to go out with an old guy like me.”  
“Sure we do! The 40/40 Club?”  
“Y’all have fun,” you murmured.  
“You aren’t coming with us?”  
“Isn’t that like a sports bar?”  
“It’s like a sports bar-meets-club. It’s Jay-Z’s club. Maybe we’ll see him and Beyonce,” Sasha gushed.  
“Sorry. I have no interest in sports or sports bars or…just…no…thanks.”  
“That sounds interesting. Let me ask my guys and see what we can do,” Chris piped up. 

He walked out and you launch yourself at the girls.

“Y’all be careful with him tonight. That’s not the real Chris Evans. He might really look like him. But it’s not him. Be. Careful.”

You ripped your costume off of your body and threw on your leggings and a black hoodie before Chris returned. 

“Call me if anything happens and I’ll come and get you. Be safe.”  
“Calm down. We’ll text you all the juicy gossip tomorrow.”  
“Yeah. You better because I don’t trust this guy. Use your common sense. What’s he doing in the city and he’s not even here with Sebastian Stan? Really?”  
“I think you need to calm down and stop trying to spoil our fun. Even if he’s not the real deal, he’s fine enough for a one-night stand.”  
“Sasha. Use a condom.”  
“And sex toys!”

The three of you dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“Ladies? Are you ready to go?”  
“Y’all have fun.”  
“Ms. Captain America isn’t coming?”  
“No. I have to walk my dog.”  
“At 2 am?” he questioned you.  
“Yes. At 2 am. I know you might think you’re really Chris Evans and you might really look like him, but you aren’t him. Calm down.”

You grabbed your bag and locked your other costumes and props away in your locker. You strut out of the Blue Hippo before he could say another word. You were, of course, filing his face and cologne away in your spank bank. Your vibrator was going to get a lot of use tonight.


End file.
